


Petting the Cat

by anotherjadedwriter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drooling, Established Relationship, Fingering, M/M, Nook Worship, Oral Sex, Porn Without Plot, Self Penetration, Voyeurism, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5667286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherjadedwriter/pseuds/anotherjadedwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't often have the chance to appreciate your mate as much as you want to, so when you can actually get one, you plan to take full advantage of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petting the Cat

It isn’t as often as you’d like that you sit down and just appreciate your mate. He’s weird about letting you touch him, because he loves when you do but worries so much that he barely lets you outside of specific situations. Still, you’re getting the chance tonight. Hopefully. You’re going to broach the subject gently and let him decide, because he’s still really, really impressionable as far as when he “can” say no is.

Either way, though, you’ve got him sitting with you, smiling those shy smiles he does, and letting you pet his hair a bit. He’s explaining one of his projects, and you’re somewhat ashamed that you’re not paying attention, because you’re easily distracted by his lips and the curve of his neck, and the fact that he’s not complaining about being interrupted by you kissing him, which is always a good sign. When you press, gently, for a deeper kiss, he purrs, his hand coming up to delicately cup your jaw.

Pulling back, you kiss his nose, smiling at the blush on his cheeks and the slight upward curve of his lips. “I like when you do that.” He lets you kiss his palm only a few times before moving his hand to your hip, even though he has to turn at a strange angle to do it.

You’re more than happy to crawl into his lap then, tilting your head and absently tucking his hair behind his ears and over his shoulders. He hums when you bite his bottom lip, his ears already turning a soft shade of blue. Equius shudders when you pinch his grubscar, gasping gently when you stop kissing him to bite his jaw, lifting his chest so you can take his shirt off of him. He’s so sensitive, you’re sure that even if you weren’t warmer than him he would be still, and it’s easy to get caught up on whichever spot elicits the best response and forget what you were doing when the best response is this deep, crooning moan, his thighs shaking under you and his hands gripping at your ass.

Pulling away from the spot behind his ear makes him huff, but you’ve got better plans, the least of which being to kiss him again, slow and deep, just letting him melt backwards into the couch, leaning your full weight against his chest. His hands drag up your sides, barely displacing your shirt, but you pull back and strip it off anyway, so you can have his hands on your skin faster. It’s a little awkward to move your leg between his, but he moves to accomodate you, shuffling his legs apart and scooting forward in his seat. You’re careful not to knee him in the crotch, instead sitting on his leg with one of your own between his. He lifts his hips just a little, presses himself forward and grinds against your leg, sighing softly.

He leans his head back and croons when you bite his neck, because you know he knew you would, and after a few seconds of making a proper hickey on his neck, you admire the fading bites you’ve already left on his skin. Of course, it only takes a few seconds for you to get impatient, wanting to get the low breaths he’s making louder, and hopefully shaped around the way he says your name.Even though he grumbles a little when you sit back, all it takes is another few kisses for you to get back into his good graces enough to undo his short’s button and zipper.

You drag yourself back, sitting instead on the coffee table and pulling at his shorts and underwear. Equius lifts himself to help you take them off, pushing them down his hips and kicking them off his feet, the flush on his cheeks getting slightly darker, but you only kind of notice. Seeing Equius with his sunglasses on his head, pushed out of the way and forgotten earlier, and still wearing his long socks and shoes but nothing else is kind of surreal. You’re so used to him being entirely nude or entirely dressed that seeing him only halfway either makes you pause for a second, eyes trailing over his chest and shoulders, his neck, his abdomen, before eventually getting to his thighs, which are probably only open because your knees are between his legs.

And there, between them, is his nook, a gentle blue and just barely damp, just like his sheatheslit is above it. When you slide your hands up his legs he hums, leaning forward to kiss you until you press him back, making sure you lean in to finish the action so he knows you’re not stopping the entire act, just pointing it in another direction. Your fingers keep trailing up, though, one hand moving to his grubscars (because he’s always so sensitive there, it’s often tempting to see if he could get off just from them being teased) while the other slides between his legs, to just trace along the edge of his nook.

Pressing your fingers delicately to that little ridge of nerves where his bulge normally meets the edge of his nook makes him melt, breathing out a low groan. Slowly, keeping your carefully trimmed claws away from anything that would hurt him, your other hand moving to rest on his hip, you trail your fingers down the outer edge of his nook. You keep following the soft curve of his nook with two fingertips, moving in a smooth, slow circle, bouncing back to that ridge of nerves and then smoothing back down, watching his chest rise and fall, his lips parting to let out little noises that make your own mouth kind of dry.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you press your fingers into him, pressing the pads of your fingers up towards the base of his bulge where his globes sit, and he sucks in a slow breath before letting it back out in a quick, harsh gasp. You’re not pressing hard on his globes, just firmly, rubbing small circles into them and using your thumb to rub at that same ridge of nerves, your other hand on his knee, just resting it there. Under your hand, he’s sweating, which isn’t surprising, but the very slight shivers are reassuring, along with the low noises he’s purring, most of them coming out shaped like your name. Your bulge is more than interested in his nook, but you ignore it entirely, because he’s making all the same delicious sounds he makes when you get a chance to actually focus when you push him over the edge.

Leaning forward to pepper a mix of bites, licks and little smooches on his chest makes him chirp, his nook fluttering around your fingers, like it’s trying to pull them deeper. Your bulge lashes in your pants, but at least bent the way you are it gets some friction when it does. It would be easy, and satisfying, to just fuck him into the sofa, and you’ll never say that his thighs around your hips don’t feel good in a primal way, but it’s worth waiting, because your staying power is more limited than your arm stamina is. His sheathe is swollen and you’re more than tempted to tease it a bit more, but that seems cruel.

Where you’re nipping at his ear, his scent is heavy and just, really fucking good. You can smell yourself on him, but you can mostly smell how much he wants this, and wants you, and his general want and his noises and his hands reaching but not touching you all make you kiss him, grabbing his horn and pressing as close as you can without stopping your movements or hurting him. He pulls away with a groan, and then he’s speaking and you kiss his neck again, pushing him through it.

“K-Karkat, I’m co-oming..” He chokes, his voice tight and his thighs shivering. He barely taps your wrist, then yanks his hands back and groans, balling them into fists while he spills lubrication onto his seat. At least you were already planning on replacing this couch. “Karkat..”

You kiss his nose, then his lips, the hand you now have on his chest sliding over his sweat-slick skin to tickle over his grubscars while he murmurs your name a few more times, trying to convince you to keep kissing him. “How is it, Equius?” You coo, giving in and licking into his mouth again, because it makes him chirp and purr and just be adorable.

“’S good.” He slurs, humming what’s almost a moan when you dig your thumb into his shivery thigh and soothe it. “It’s really, so good.” You shuffle a little and move further between his legs, the fingers in his nook pressing hard against his globes because, honestly, you kind of like watching him struggle not to close his legs. “H… Hot..”

His head rolls back and you sink your teeth into his throat, savoring the noise it drags from his lips before moving your attentions to the side of his neck with a few less bites on it, and then to his chest, pausing to give a few extra nibbles to any spot that makes his breath catch. Which is, really, most of them. He’s so sensitive, and you make him moreso, simply by being warmer than he is, that it’s pretty easy to reduce him to a shivering, squirming mess, as long as you keep from giving in and taking his bulge. It’s still great, of course, but it’s so much less, and you almost never make him literally cry from pleasure like that.

As it is, though, you slow your movements, easing him through the aftershocks and covering his face with kisses, adoring how he insists you keep going and how he reminds you over and over that he loves you, an eager grin on his face when you tell him the same just as many times as he does. He’s gorgeous, spread and wet and flushed and beautiful, his lips bitten and bruised and wet, too, his chest and neck covered in fast-healing bruises, and your name on his breath, starting to ask for more than the light touches you’re giving him.

You grin, pulling your hand away and looping the other under his knee and lifting his leg to put his foot on the cushion, then press on his thigh to open his legs a little more. He shifts a little, scooting forward some and stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied noise, then settling his eyes on you, half lidded and dusky, and you don’t even try to stop yourself when you go and kiss him, your nose bumping his and your teeth clicking against his. He doesn’t complain, though, just presses forward and kisses you with as much enthusiasm as ever.

When you pull back, he rests against the couch again, thrumming with little moans. He’s open like this, his chipped and broken teeth showing in his smiles, his voice a little higher and a lot louder, and you can’t get enough of it. Still, when he asks you to slow down, you do, watching his body relax a little. His legs close, not hard just folding closed, and when you take a second to spread his legs open again he grins, his eyes half lidded and his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Karkat.” He purrs, letting out a small breath when you grind the heel of your palm into his nook a bit, pressing against that little nerve ridge. “Karkat, what about you?”

Your hand stops and you lean your cheek into your hand, smiling. “I like watching you. Don’t worry about it.” You lift your head and smooth the hand you’d rested it on up his abdomen, over his chest and throat, then press your fingertips into his mouth.

Equius doesn’t even pause before lapping at the two fingers in his mouth, his eyes locked on yours, and you start moving faster, your bulge pressing at the seam of your pants. He slides his tongue between your fingers, sucks on them, and you pretend your breath isn’t coming faster just from that, pushing almost roughly at his globes. He gasps, lets your fingers fall from his lips, and arches his chest up when you drag your claws gently across his skin. His tongue wets his lips and you want to fuck him into the couch, but you don’t act on it. You’ll do it later, once he’s so sensitive that he’s just slurring and begging for more.

It feels a little wrong, almost, to want him to be that far gone, but you’ve never heard a complaint, and you always take care of him afterwards. He’s always liquid in your hands, loose and shivering under your fingertips and crooning for more kisses. It’s honestly the best feeling in the world, how much he trusts you in those moments, how he doesn’t go tense and concerned when you touch him.

So you’ll keep it up until he tells you not to.

You kneel between his legs, settling with your ass on the floor and your legs bent at a kind of uncomfortable angle to get at his nook. He watches you closely, since your hand just comes to a rest on his thigh so you don’t scratch him because holy shit, no. Gently, you press his legs open a bit wider, smiling up at him for as long as you can tear your eyes away from his nook, which is probably not long enough to be strictly polite or anything, but it works out for both of you because you’ve got an oral fixation and he likes getting eaten out.

Hand sliding under his knee, you ease his leg over your shoulder, gently enough that he knows he can stop you if he wants. He doesn’t stop you, and even relaxes in a few seconds while you press your face against his skin, your cheek on his thigh and your hand finding his to squeeze it reassuringly. He stares at you for a few seconds, and then you move forward some more and press your mouth to his nook, your tongue taking over with stroking his nook.

And he doesn’t get as loud as he does when you’re overstimulating his globes, but that’s fine. He’s still pretty noisy (for him), just his thighs shivering a little and his breath coming in sharp gasps and his fingers tangling in your hair. When you look up, your tongue flicking over the ridge of nerves there at the top, he’s watching you, his shoulders up around his ears and his lips wet. Since his hands are in your hair now, you take both of yours back and press the heel of your palm against your bulge through your pants, and then, slowly, press two fingers into his nook.

Equius jumps, yips, and barely keeps from pressing himself into you, his fingers twitching just enough to make your hair go taught, but not actually pull. One of his hands moves to his chest, pinching at his chestnub, and his other carefully, terribly carefully, rubs at your horn. It does more for him than you, but you still moan a little, because his horn kink is kind of cute, honestly. He tastes cold. Not bad, just cold and like Equius tastes, which you kind of like, since you’re so flush for him it makes your friends kind of sick.

You drag your tongue slowly over his pleasure nub, then up the slit of his sheathe before pulling back, then repeating the motion. Your fingers stroke his globes, barely pressing at them, and he falls back, giving up on playing with your horns and just laying back, insisting you keep going with tiny noises mixed with actual words. He starts shivering, his chest pushing out, and you press a little harder to push him over the edge.

Equius coming is always spectacular, in your opinion. He gets this soft “o” shaped mouth, his eyebrows knit together, and then he huffs out a high-pitched noise, sometimes your name, sometimes just a sound, sometimes a curse word, and then he comes. When it’s not his first, and the longer it goes on, he gets louder, and as he gets louder he tends to shake more, and if it’s a particularly strong orgasm he’ll shudder and somtimes his mouth won’t close, like it isn’t this time, and he’ll get a little drool at the corner of his mouth, his ears flicking.

Even once he’s done, you keep going, the hand not fingering his nook gripping his ass like you could hope to hold him there if he moved, and he whines, curling over you, his heel pressing into the side of the couch (you’re pretty sure he must have reinforced it, because otherwise it would probably be broken). The noise he makes when you suck at his pleasurenub is hard to describe, something like a feral croon mixed with a sob, and he pulls his leg back from over your shoulder to put his heel on the edge of the couch, effectively spreading himself wider and giving you a lot better access to his nook.

You pull your hand back and press your mouth to his nook entirely, gripping his ass hard enough that you’re worried he might bruise, but all he does is groan, shaking, begging you for more. He’s gorgeous, drenched in sweat (unsurprisingly), and panting, his efforts to keep his mouth closed are mostly failing, so he’s got drool running down his chin, dripping to his chest and making him look, honestly, just terribly debauched. His sheathe is swollen, wet and when you tease along his slit with your tongue he sobs another of those noises you’re deciding are your favorite that he makes, his entire body shaking and his bulge almost, almost pushing out.

When you drag your tongue lower, almost to his wastechute, he squirms, like he’s not sure what he wants you to do from there, but you pull back, going instead to his nook again. It takes only a few more moments before he’s tentatively touching your hand, murmuring something slurred about “a little more”, so you drag your hand away from groping his ass to fingerfuck him again. Then, it’s only a few more moments before he shudders and comes with a low croon, though he keeps shaking and gasping even when he can’t seem to make any more noises.

It takes a little personal effort, but you do manage to pull yourself away from his nook long enough to realize that you have a great vantage point for him falling apart like this, and to see his bulge managing to poke out just a little. Those thoughts coinciding make you smile, wrapping your fingers around his bulge and stoking it delicately. You don’t want to make him come too soon, since if he spills he’ll probably be in actual pain if he comes again after that, and you want to see him really lose himself. That in mind, you just tease his bulge out, resisting the urge to use your mouth and soaking up the happy, warbling noises your mate is making.

Once it’s out entirely, and you’ve gotten your fill of hefting it in your hands, watching his long eyelashes flutter when you squeeze it and considering putting your plans aside to just take his bulge instead, you kiss the base. Equius purrs, his hands flexing on the cushions (and solidifying your decision to replace the couch), and as you trail up the underside of his bulge, it twists down, following your mouth while Equius makes efforts not to jerk his hips or press your head down. His thighs are still nicely spread, so when you lead his bulge into his nook, it sinks in perfectly, and you get to watch his face as he’s filled and surrounded at once, his teeth gritting together and his breathing getting choppy.

After the first couple centimeters, you let go and just watch him, because his bulge is pressing steadily into him and, more importantly, because he’s gripping the couch near your hands. After wiping your hands decidedly on your pants, you ease up his vice grip to hold his hands in your own, which is a little awkward, what with him being generally pretty large compared to you. You manage, though, murmuring little encouragements and kissing his knuckles, even while your bulge basically tries to tie itself in knots in your pants.

“Karkat..” He breathes, pulling at you, dragging you away from staring at him like the voyuer you kind of are to demand you kiss him, even though it’s sloppy and his hands fall from your face as soon as you kiss him. You bite his bottom lip and grope at the base of his bulge, following the curve of it to the edge of his nook while you bite at his ear and he drools on himself a little, which you’d feel bad about if it wasn’t weirdly hot, and you still do feel kind of bad about it.

Your fingers press gently at his nook, feeling around the stretched lips where his bulge is inside him. Equius shivers, eyes wide, and stares at you, though his thighs are still twitching slightly. You just slide your fingers over his nook, purring some nonsense and soothing him with your other hand in his hair. He still whines when you press a finger into him, but you’re so, so slow, barely applying pressure.

Honestly, you’re so fascinated by watching his nook just, well, take so much, that it makes you jump a little when he gropes at your bulge. He’s making the face he makes when he’s about to come again, but he’s still groping at your bulge and leaning up to peck kisses on your lips, or whatever else he can reach. You don’t have to think much before just pulling your pants open and shoving them down your hips, and once your bulge is free you press against him, your bulge twisting against his and his nook. It’s good, even if it’s only a little bit of contact, it’s still good, still has you gripping him tight and bucking your hips.

The very tip of your bulge twists into Equius’s nook and he sobs, jolts against you, and comes with a yelp, his hips rolling as he fills himself. He just sort of shakes against you, his legs loosely wrapping around your hips and a low whine coming from his throat. You rock into him quickly, wanting to just push into him and see how far you can really push him, but he’s got little tears on his cheeks, his fingers tearing into the couch when a few more centimeters of your bulge press into his nook, his bulge writhing to life against yours from the stimulation.

“Equius, wait.” You choke, your hips stuttering. “Wait, is it okay? Are you okay?”

He whines a little more, grunting. “It’s okay, it’s, yeah. Karkat, I want it, I want you.” He punctuates his sentence with a poorly timed whimper, but his heels hold you tight against him by pressing at your ass.

You nod, then go back to moving, going as quickly as you can manage without hurting him or pressing any more of your bulge into him. Your face presses to his neck and it only takes you a few more seconds before you’re coming, muttering his name a few more times as your material pours out of you and into him.

It spills mostly out when you pull back, and all it takes to make Equius come to a watery, teary orgasm is gently removing his bulge from his nook. His legs just rest open, material dripping from his nook while you try to catch your breath. He’s so pretty like this, you keep staring at him, waiting to try and think of something to do. Eventually, you settle on pressing at his abdomen to keep his seedflap from opening and taking in the material in his nook, because that’s usually uncomfortable after as much as you’ve done with him, and because it’ll get it over with before you take him into the bathroom to wash him down. He purrs and coos at you while you finish pressing the material out of him as well as you can, then wipe his face off, peppering kisses over his forehead while you do.

Equius grumbles about going to the bathroom and dealing with showering, but once you and he get settled into a hot bath, he relaxes, sighing. It takes a while, but you manage to get the knots in his back and his thighs to relax enough that he doesn’t complain each time he moves, but it’s also a good excuse to grope him a little.

After a bath that leaves both of you a little pruney and not wanting to get out to sleep, you move him into your block and settle him in a nest of pillows and blankets, promising to cuddle him as soon as you’re done cleaning up. Equius still complains, but it’s mostly for show, and by the time you get back from cleaning up the mess you made, he’s out, not even making a sound when you squeeze under his arms and wrap yourself around him.

Of course, when you get up again and check your messages, a few of your friends complain about not being able to talk to you. When they ask what you were doing, you just tell them you were petting the cat, and Equius only gets a little embarrassed.

**Author's Note:**

> I just kinda like Karkat being a voyeur tbh  
> if you enjoyed this, consider tipping me here: https://ko-fi.com/A781PZJ


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